Stolen Moment
by undertaledruid
Summary: It had been a shot meant for Dazai. So why didn't it hit?


The gunshot sounded through the air. Now, Dazai was always a man who embraced the warm arms of death. Hell, it was what he was known for. Constantly, he spoke of a double suicide, constantly, he wished to drown himself in the river, and tried. Constantly, he tried to research methods he could use to just die a quick death. Suffering was not something he wished for, no. It was just the sweet, sweet release of death that he was constantly aching for. No, not that he was… depressed, that wasn't the case. No, it was more of, he was fascinated. It was a concept that endeared greatly to him.

So when he had seen that gun pointed at his chest, when he knew that the walls surrounding him prevented him from leaving, he had turned towards it, hoping that it would pierce his heart and then that would be the end of it. Hell, he even held his arms out, a smile turning the corners of his mouth upwards. His eyes had closed, as well. It was almost funny, how happy he looked when that gun was pointed at his chest. Yet when he heard the shot, he didn't feel as though everything went away quickly. Or… anything at all. Well, maybe he just… died quickly, yes, that had to be the case. What other explanation was offered? He slowly reopened one eye, a little "hmm?" going up through his vocal cords. His surroundings were the same. Weird. He felt around his chest, he could feel it. So he wasn't a ghost. His other eye reopened, quicker than the other. He looked down. No blood, no body, nothing. It was still just… him. What the fuck had happened? A misfire?

He heard another shot, and a collective 'thud'. He snapped his eyes up, holding his chest with one hand, looking towards where the shooter had been. What… what was going on? Why hadn't he been shot? It was annoying at the least. The shooter must have fallen, because when his eyes had travelled to where they'd been, they hadn't been there. Now, they were laying on the ground. What…? Had that been a suicide? Then how were there two shots? No- Maybe they shot-

Oh, how it felt as though his stomach dropped. When he looked down, there was someone else. Crimson laid around them both, the moonlight shone brightly off of the foul substance. He quickly realised it was blood, it was a no brainer. No, it wasn't the blood chilling his gut. Oh, no. It was who the other person on the ground was. The moment he saw the tan pants and waistcoat and the familiar long blonde locks- Kunikida. When had… oh no. At first, he didn't feel angry, or he didn't feel a lot. He was more confused than anything else at first. Since when had he been there? He could quickly tell that the shot had been meant for him, not Kunikida. Kunikida had defended him? Why? Didn't Kunikida hate him? Wasn't that the case? He took a few steps forward. Those steps became fast, and soon, his knees were connecting with the ground. He put his hands on Kunikida's side, pulling him onto his back to see what the damage was.

Now, normally, people would be screaming bloody murder at witnessing this. But oh, it was nothing that he wasn't used to. He just had to treat it as another murder case. Oh, but naturally, there was one thing preventing that. This wasn't some random civilian he didn't know. This wasn't some Port Mafia Member, oh no, this was a colleague. A partner, at that, someone he almost always worked with. He _knew _Kunikida, and as much as he pestered the blond, of course he valued their friendship so very dearly. That was a big reason why he continued to pester him, it was because he liked him, he was close to him. He had opened up emotionally to him, and it had resulted in good things. And now, it felt as though it was being ripped right out of his damn hands. A bullet to the torso, right where the diaphragm was. Yet, Kunikida was still breathing. Blood was starting to trail from his lower lip- God, what a sight. He grimaced at it. Lightly, he put an arm under Kunikida's shoulders to support him, his other hand slowly lowering itself to the wound, as if he could staunch the bleeding. But he already knew that… most likely, it was too late. Even if he picked him up and booked it back to the Agency, Kunikida would only die on the way. It wasn't worth it. Kunikida slowly met his eye.

"... you took away my moment to die." He tried to keep his tone as light-hearted as he could, a forced smile appearing on his face. "Being shot would've been such a quick way, you know…"

Kunikida slightly smiled at his comments, leaning his head against his shoulder. He felt his eyes begin to heat up- No… no, no, he didn't cry often, no, not at all. Kunikida's hand, oh so shaky, found its way to the side of his face. His thumb ran over his cheek, it only caused his own chest to contract a bit. He took a sharp, yet small breath, trying to keep that fake as hell smile on his face, trying to deny that this was actually _happening_. Kunikida shook his head, letting his hand fall back down.

"You've… always been a suicide crazed- crazed maniac."

"You know it. So then… why? That was- That was the perfect opp-"

"You would think… I would allow you to... allow you to die a gun alone? Wasn't it… drowning…? Wasn't that what you-"

"That's all fine and dandy- But the shot would've been so quick." Oh, now his voice was beginning to waver. A little hiccup… oh god. "And you- You just… damn you."

He felt Kunikida's hand on his own, a gentle squeeze being administered. It only caused him to start to crack just a bit more. Just a tiny, tiny bit more. He let his own fingers fall in the spaces between Kunikidas, no longer trying to cover up the wound. Oh, what would he tell the Agency? This… this was his fault. If he hadn't been out here right now, then the shot would've never been fired, and Kunikida would be fine, and none of this would be happening, yet instead, this was what reality was for him now. He choked a bit as he started to laugh.

"... you do real- realise that the Agency wouldn't- It wouldn't be the same… if you weren't there. You do- you do realise that you're… you're loved there, no matt- matter what people actually say to your face."

What? Of course- of course he knew that. He just continued to laugh that sorrowful, humorless laugh. He squeezed Kunikida's hand- Damn him.

"And you know that I won't have anyone to bother now, right? You're- You're gonna be gone, and- And then I'm probably going to have to move on to Ranpo or Atsushi."

Kunikida smiled a bit more. His eyelids lowered some more, just a tad more.

"I'm sure… they'll be happy to cover."

The last word had come as more of a whisper than anything. This time, he didn't offer a response. He just waited, it shouldn't be long now. He continued to hold onto Kunikida's hand, he continued to wait, continued his laugh, a small part of him hoping that someone would come by and fix everything. But this wasn't some fairy tale where he could wish for something and then magically, it would appear, oh no, this was reality, and it was beginning to come down on him, and hard. What the fuck was he going to tell them? What? He had no idea, all he could really focus on was how Kunikida was bleeding out right here and now, how he was bleeding out taking a bullet _he _had wanted. How the fuck was any of this even fucking-

He stopped thinking when he felt Kunikida's hand drop, limp. His head rolled a bit more to the side on his shoulder, and the light that once lit up his irises had faded away. He smiled and reached under his glasses, closing his eyes the rest of the way. It was that moment, when finally, he shattered. One tear, then another. Then another. Soon, it was an onslaught of them running down his face. Those laughs had turned into sobs, he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to halt the tears. Yet it did nothing. He grabbed onto Kunikida's hand again, hoping to _god _he could feel a squeeze back. Alas, there was none. So really, all he could do in those moments, were sob, and feel how guilt was reaching down and taking him by the neck.

… oh, his fascination with death just became much, much stronger.


End file.
